


The Man with Funny Socks

by kingkoblih



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-11
Updated: 2019-04-30
Packaged: 2019-05-21 03:10:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 20,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14907206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kingkoblih/pseuds/kingkoblih
Summary: Emil Nekola is an ordinary man. Often seen in his Hawaiian shirt, shorts and sandals, this bearded fellow has a steady job, enjoys sports and spends his free time travelling all over the globe, enjoying adventures and collecting memorabilia he could send his two nephews back home. Oh, and he's a wizard whose biggest dream is to make the life easier for muggle families with wizard children.





	1. Good evening!

**Author's Note:**

  * For [1pen1knife](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=1pen1knife).



1.

It was a late afternoon in the middle of July. A beautiful Sunday that most of the Quickbeak Street residents spent outside at the local swimming pool with their children. It was a friendly neighbourhood, a suburb of Nettleyork, a town north-east from Brighton. The neighbours knew each other, they invited each other for barbeques, their children went to school together, the families spent weekends on hiking trips together. Some of the families were on vacation this time of a year and so the street was even quieter than usual. The sun was slowly going down and most of the people were resting in their living rooms, watching their favourite TV show, eating chips and drinking cold lemonade to cool themselves down in this warm summer. Nothing could disturb the beautiful peace the Quickbeak Street residents created for themselves.

Except for the Wimbleys, of course. Nobody liked the Wimbleys. Mr and Mrs Wimbley moved in a year ago. Nobody knew much about them. Mr Wimbley was an ordinary electrician in a company in the centre and Mrs Wimbley was a photographer. They weren’t particularly rich, but they made enough money to afford a nice house they spent the past year repairing. They had a big Scottish Deerhound called Dotty, who lived in their back yard and a seven-year-old daughter. Her name was Amie, but everyone called her “the bad girl”. Soon after they moved in, things around the house changed, the neighbours noticed. A lot of noise came out of the house. Things were constantly falling, even though they were properly secured. Windows broke every other week. Mrs Wimbley and little Amie were often rushed to the hospital in the middle of the night and Amie’s arms were in a cast more often than they were not. And not only that, Amie often caused problems at school, too. She was an outstanding student, but she was considered rather aggressive, as many of her classmates, even boys, often ended up injured, even though Amie would swear she did nothing to them. Her parents repeatedly promised they would talk to her, but nothing ever changed. And after a whole desk flew across the classroom and hit the teacher, the neighbourhood decided the Wimbleys had no place in the peaceful suburb. Since then, nobody saw the Wimbleys out much. But they knew they were still there, inside of the beautiful house that could’ve been a beautiful home for a better, nicer, more _normal_ family.

A faint crack resonated through the street. He stopped at the porch and looked around. Such a nice place, he thought. A newly painted house, two floors, a big front lawn, thoroughly mowed, flowers around the driveway, a garage and a big doormat in front of the front door, welcoming all newcomers with a warm “Welcome to our family”. Only the little window in the front door was covered with a wooden board as if it was broken just recently and the owners hadn’t found the time to get it repaired.

He grabbed onto the porch railing and leaned onto it to shake a stone out of his sandal.

“One steps into gravel once and finds the stones for the rest of his life...” he muttered for himself, making sure his sandal was thoroughly fastened. He straightened back up and without hesitation knocked firmly on the door.

It took some time before the door finally opened, though only slightly. A young woman peeked from behind the door secured with a chain. She was silent, but her azure blue eyes were checking the newcomer from head to toe. What was this tall, bearded man doing here? And why was he wearing such an ugly shirt and sandals with _socks_ in them? But before she could ask about his fashion choices, the man smiled wide and waved.

“Good evening. My name is Emil Nekola and I am here to tell you about the Magical Children Foundation.”

 

2.

“I’m sorry, we…” she sighed, “We’ve given up on cleaning up recently. There was no point.”

He followed Mrs Wimbley inside the house. Usually it took some time to convince parents to let him in, but he knew the Wimbleys were desperate. It took only a few steps to understand the outside of the amazing family house was only a façade. Inside, the wallpapers were detaching from the walls on numerous places. Most of the furniture was broken and quickly put together by unprofessional hands. The lightbulbs in most of the lamps were missing.

“Can I get you something? Coffee?” Mrs Wimbley asked as they came to the kitchen, where the lightbulbs were still intact in the ceiling light.

“I’d rather have a cup of tea, if you don’t mind,” Emil smiled politely and looked around. One of the drawers was missing altogether and most of the kitchen cabinets were scratched, just like the table he sat at. He watched the petite short-haired woman prepare their drinks in silence. She was wearing a light blue t-shirt and a grey open cardigan, even though it was almost 30 °C outside. She had no makeup on and she looked tired. Way more tired than a woman in her 30s should look on a Sunday evening. He could feel the suspense in the air, he could almost taste all the questions floating in the air around them, but he remained silent. He politely thanked for the cup of black tea and watched Mrs Wimbley sit at the opposite side of the kitchen table with her cup of coffee – each cup was different, he supposed their matching tea set was long broken too.

“Will you help her?” was the first thing Mrs Wimbley said. Emil had to admit this was not what he expected. He’d met many many tired parents, some were confused, some were angry, some were suspicious. They always asked questions. About him, about the Foundation, about how he found them… He smiled softly and nodded.

“I believe so,” he said.

Mrs Wimbley’s lips parted as she wanted to ask another question, but her eyes suddenly trailed behind Emil. When he turned around, he saw the little girl peeking in from behind the door frame. She was small and skinny, her long blonde hair was slightly knotted on one side, but she still had a pink bow in her hair, matching her pyjamas. Her left hand was in a cast that, surprisingly, wasn’t drawn on one bit. Her eyes were as big and as blue as her mother’s and seemed equally tired and scared. Mrs Wimbley stretched her arms towards her daughter and the girl quickly walked into the kitchen, finding comfort in her mother’s embrace. Mrs Wimbley kissed her forehead and hugged her tightly before looking back at Emil.

“We just want this to be over…” she whispered. “Whatever you want to do, do it. We will try anything. Just make it stop.”

Emil put down his cup of tea and wiped his mouth to a handkerchief that suddenly appeared in his mouth.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” he said calmly.

“B-But you said you can help her!” Mrs Wimbley suddenly raised her voice. Before Emil could reply, he heard the front door open and soon steps were hurrying to the kitchen.

“What’s going on? Lucy, are you alright- Who is this?” Mr Wimbley stopped in the kitchen door, looking at the scene before him in confusion. Emil quickly stood up and offered the newcomer a handshake.

“Emil Nekola. Nice to meet you, sir. I’m glad you’re back, I was hoping to talk to all three of you. How did the shift go?” he asked with a calm smile and as soon as Mr Wimbley shook his hand, he used it to sit him down on his previous spot at the table.

“A-Alright, I guess… What’s going on here, honey?” he turned around to his wife, still confused.

“I think it’s about time I told you why I visited you, right?” Emil clapped his hands together before Mrs Wimbley could answer.

“As I’ve already told your lovely wife, Mr Wimbley, I came here to talk to you about the Magical Children Foundation. We are an association uniting children with peculiar abilities from non-magical families. Our goal is to bring these families together so that the magical children can meet some friends with the same abilities and so that the parents can meet other parents and share their stories and experience,” Emil explained.

“So… you want money?” Mr Wimbley asked in a reserved manner.

“No, not at all! I just-“

“You want our daughter?”

“No, oh dear, listen-“

“What do you mean, “magical children”, is that some euphemism for problematic kids?” Mrs Wimbley joined.

“Not in the slightest, madam, in fact-“

“So what do you want form us?”

“How did you even find us?”

“What do you want to do with our daughter?”

“Enough!” Emil said firmly. He could see the Wimbleys jumping in their seats as he reached down his pocket, expecting a gun, but Emil took out a thin wooden wand instead. Without a word he moved the wand a few times and suddenly the Wimbleys watched their kitchen changing right before their eyes. The doors of the kitchen drawers were not crooked anymore, the lights above the stove lit up again, the walls were turning the beautiful blue colour they painted them a year ago, everything was clean again, even the table was shiny and there were no signs of the deep scratches in the varnish anymore.

“H-How…?”

“Your daughter can do the same,” Emil smiled calmly and put the wand back in his pocket. “Well, not exactly the same, as I’ve noticed, she has more of the opposite talent, doesn’t she?” he laughed lightly and walked towards the confused-looking family. He squatted before little Amie, looking her in the eyes.

“Haven’t you ever done anything strange without knowing how?” he asked quietly. “Like changing someone’s clothes colour? Or haven’t you ever had something fly across the room just because you wanted it to?”

Amie’s eyes lit up. She nodded and Emil could’ve sworn he saw a little smile on her lips before she hid in her mother’s arms again. Emil gently patted her head.

“When I was your age, I set our kitchen curtains on fire that couldn’t be put down with water. A special team from the Ministry of Magic had to come to our house and put it down themselves,” he chuckled and stood up. “And, if you don’t mind, I’d like to send them here too, preferably right tomorrow. They’ll set your house straight again,” he offered the parents and took his cup of tea to drink up.

“But… What’s going to happen to Amie?” Mrs Wimbley asked, her voice shaking.

“You don’t need to worry, Mrs Wimbley,” Emil assured her. “The Foundation unites families like yours. She’ll make new friends, she’ll learn to control her powers a little better and she’ll learn more about the wizarding world. And you and your husband will meet people who’ve been through the same things. I promise, from now on, things will be much better.”

Just like the handkerchief, suddenly a colourful pamphlet appeared in his hand and he handed it to Mrs Wimbley with a smile.

“Here, everything you need to know is written in there. If you need anything, there’s an e-mail and a telephone number on the back. Contact me whenever you need anything. The next family meeting is in two weeks in Brighton, we’ll be happy to see you there. But now, eh,” he looked down at the big watch on his left wrist, “accept my deepest apology, but I must go. I have another meeting with the Bransons in five minutes.”

“Bransons? _The_ Bransons from the Trudeau Street?” Mrs Wimbley asked, surprised. Emil chuckled and set the empty cup back on the table.

“Yes, do you know them? Little Mark had a kettle chase the neighbours’ toddler yesterday. I promised to come by and talk to him. But you know kids, right? They just want to have fun!” Emil laughed and made his way out of the kitchen and through the hall.

“As I said, the meeting is in two weeks, it’s all written in the book. And the Ministry workers will come tomorrow, let’s say at 9? Alright then, at 9. Take care! And Amie, please,” he looked down at the girl for the last time, “no more flying desks, okay?”

“Okay,” the little girl said softly.

“See you soon, Wimbleys, it was a pleasure meeting you!” Emil chanted at the door and finally left. The family hurried to the window, but before they could pull out the curtains and look out, the strange man disappeared with a faint crack.


	2. Mail Time

3.

“JJ?!” Emil stormed into the office with a little package in his hands. Even though he left the dazzling aloha shirt at home, he still seemed a little out of place at the Ministry. Instead of the long robe most of the employees wore, Emil insisted on formal trousers and a button-up shirt with a tie or a bowtie. That day, his shirt was blue with white stripes, and the bowtie under his chin was decorated with little ducks. His trousers were rolled up to reveal the unmatched socks and, since it was the middle of summer, his long sleeves were rolled up as well. He walked to his desk and started unwrapping the package, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

“You don’t need to yell, my friend, I’m right here,” said his colleague, clunking his knee into a wooden box as he turned to Emil.

Their office was small, but they didn’t mind. All they needed were two desks and a few shelves and drawers to pile the paperwork on. The walls were painted an ugly shade of green that Emil picked himself (and that JJ changed every time he had the opportunity), the window above JJ’s desk was broken ever since they moved their things in the office, and the light flickered most of the time. But still, it was their home for many hours a day and they made it their own. While JJ’s desk was decorated with numerous framed pictures of him with his fiancé and pictures of his family, Emil had his desk full of little gadgets he collected all around the world. Above his desk, he had a picture of twin baby boys stuck up to the wall. However, the showpiece of their office was without a doubt a big framed picture of Emil and JJ in their twenties, hugging each other and celebrating with laughter while holding the Quidditch cup together.

“What do we have here?” JJ asked, looking over Emil’s shoulder.

“Just a few things for the boys,” Emil replied as he started taking out the insides of the little box.

“You… Do realize those socks don’t match, right?” JJ scratched his head as he saw the four socks with dinosaurs, each being a different colour.

“Why should they?” Emil shrugged. “They’re made of the Hungarian forest sheep wool. Cooling in summer, warm in winter and never wears out! Just perfect for two rascals who refuse to wear slippers inside,” Emil smiled proudly.

“How do you always sound like a commercial?” JJ shook his head and sat back at his desk.

“Well, excuse me, but you didn’t seem to complain when you got the Indian broom polish last Christmas,” Emil grinned and took a few packages of jelly slugs and mint frogs out of his drawer. He sorted the presents into two small piles and with a tap of his wand, they both were wrapped in colourful paper.

“So, what did you need?” JJ changed the subject, determined to never admit the polish was one of the best things he’d ever owned. “Or why did you call me across the whole department?”

“Oh, right. Can I borrow Marvin?”

“Again?!”

“Come on! Their birthday is in two days, I need to send their presents!” Emil whined.

“Why don’t you just send it through the muggle postal service?!”

Emil sighed.

“Come on, I don’t have any money to buy stamps…” he mumbled.

“Marvin will be out for at least four days, what if we need to send something important? Not happening, Emil,” JJ furrowed his brows.

“The Ministry has a bazillion of owls, you can always borrow one,” Emil shrugged.

“Why don’t _you_ borrow one then?!”

“Come ooon, JJ! The boys love Marvin!”

“Last year he came home sick!”

“Well, then teach him not to eat candy a two-year-old offers him,” Emil grinned and stood up. “He’ll be back in a few days. I promise he’s gonna be okay,” he added while gathering the presents in his bag.

“I don’t know…”

“Thank you!”

“But-“

“I’m paying for the beer tonight. And dinner,” Emil said and patted JJ’s shoulder. JJ’s face was still stone cold, though. “Aaaand dessert? I know you won’t say no to the chocolate cake at Martha’s,” Emil added with a wide smile. JJ sighed.

“Fine…”

Emil patted his shoulder once more before grabbing his bag and walking out of the office.

“But it’s for the last time!” JJ shouted after him.

“Understood!” Emil shouted back. “Just like the last time. And the time before,” he giggled for himself.

 

4.

“I know, I know…” he mumbled and finally put the cage down on the coffee table. The owl was doing everything to make Emil know he wasn’t happy. Emil quickly put his bag on the small sofa and opened the cage. Marvin, the very expressive Northern white-faced owl, immediately flew out and sat on top of the fireplace. Emil reached into his pocket and threw a cracker that Marvin swiftly caught.

Emil looked around and once again realized his apartment desperately needed a cleaning. But where was he supposed to find time for that? He sighed and walked over to the desk in the corner of his living room. He flopped into the chair, kicked off his shoes, untied his bowtie and unbuttoned the first three buttons of his shirt. He was tired…

Not that he would complain, he enjoyed his job, got quite good money for it, but lately it had been a habit to force the workers to stay overtime, which, in Emil’s case, sometimes meant working till sunset. He couldn’t possibly ask JJ to do that, since he was the one with a family. Despite being in his early thirties, Emil lived alone, and he could spare those few hours from his free time. But still, he was so happy for the weekend. Before he could go to sleep, however, there was still one thing he had to do.

He grabbed the remote from the desk and aimed it at the speakers on the bookshelf.

The second his favourite synth wave mix started playing, Emil felt the stress leaving his body. He reached into his desk and took out an ordinary notebook and a ballpoint pen. He looked outside, he could already see the stars peeking through the darkening sky… He smiled, turned on the lamp to see better and started writing.

 

            _Dear Jan,_

_I hope the family is doing well. I know you would prefer my letters coming through the regular postal system but getting muggle change is getting more and more difficult for me, hope you understand. Marvin, however, enjoys the trips across the sea, he likes to be pet and is not afraid of strangers, as you’ve already found out, I’m sure. Please, just tell the boys not to give him any sweets this time. If you want to make him happy, give him some water and let him sleep at your place for a few hours._

_I’m sending the boys their birthday presents, hope they reach you in time. They can pick whichever package they want, they’re mostly identical. I’m not sure what size they are by now, so I hope they won’t mind if the socks are a little too big. On the other hand, they will grow with them for at least two years, that’s the beauty of high-quality magical clothing! If you ever want them too, just send me a message. Of course, I would try to find a pair without the dinosaurs for you. If my calculations are right, they should be already attending kindergarten soon, right? That’s exciting! Hope everything goes well._

_As always, my offer is still valid. Whenever you want to come by for a visit, you are welcome. You and the whole family. England sure is lonely these days. But I’m sure you, Anna and the boys would love it here. I should get some time off in September, so I will probably visit mom and dad. Don’t you want to come too? It’s been years since we had a family reunion like this. Maybe we could even invite our cousins? I’m sure Aneta and Klaudie would love to come. Think about it._

_Take care of yourself, I hope everything is okay back at home._

_With love, your brother Emil._

Emil read the letter a few times over, just to make sure it didn’t contain any mistakes. He knew his brother could be quite nitpicky at times. He then folded the letter into an envelope and glued it shut. Marvin landed on the table and watched Emil in silent excitement from the upcoming journey. After one final check, Emil tied the presents along with the letter to Marvin’s leg. He gave him one last belly rub and let the owl gently nibble on his finger.

“Be careful, okay? Don’t take anything from the children or JJ rips me in two,” he said jokingly and finally opened the window. As the cold breeze ruffled up his hair, Marvin spread out his wings and flew out into the night. Emil leaned on the window sill and watched his owl friend until he couldn’t see him anymore. He let the window open and once again looked around the room.

“Fine,” he sighed to himself. “Cleaning time…”


	3. On the Crossing

Emil was convinced that summer lasted only a few days. Before he knew it, the trees in the park in front of his apartment were playing in different colours and he had to start wearing a light jacket with a scarf on his morning commute to work. As much as he tried to look presentable, the wind always made his hair stick in every direction. But that was the price to pay for walking to work. If there was something Emil absolutely hated, it was the Floo Network. He had a fire place at home, but it was mostly for visitors to come to him, not for him to go, well, anywhere. As careless as he could be on a broom, Emil was quite claustrophobic. Nevertheless, he was already so eccentric for the British wizards that him walking around could surprise no one anymore.

August had been one hell of a month for Emil, since JJ spent most of it at home. Supposedly some trouble with his fiancé. But he never wanted to talk about it openly, and so Emil didn’t ask. He was quiet, he worked hard and he tried to convince everyone that JJ was indeed working as usual – the last thing he would want was his friend losing his job, especially after he saved Emil’s back countless times when he got stuck at his numerous travels.

This Monday was different, though. It was already the end of September and after a long time Emil actually slept in. The meeting of magical children from muggle families took place the previous night and since he already had hours worked up for the next six months, he decided JJ could definitely survive the morning without him. He was walking through the streets with a coffee (lots of milk and tons of sugar) in one hand and a piece of a sponge cake in the other and he was enjoying the sunny day that came out of nowhere after two weeks of steady rain. It was already half past ten, all the children were at school, adults were at work and the little people that were roaming the streets were so pleasantly surprised by the weather that they actually smiled at each other. For a few minutes he finally forgot about the pile of papers on his desk and the never-ending headache the neighbour Department of the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures was giving him (he would swear something must’ve bitten someone’s arm off the previous Friday, judging from the screaming).

He stopped at the traffic lights and took a deep breath. The air was unusually clear, not many cars were going around and, after a long time, Emil felt relaxed and well. As he was taking a sip of his coffee, he spotted a lady at the other side of the crossing, smiling at him. Normally, his heart would start pounding and his face would turn red, he usually didn’t know how to act around other people or how to react when someone acted nice towards him, but today? He was chill. Just a chill dude with his coffee and sponge cake. He smiled back. She was around his age, late twenties or maybe early thirties. Her hair was dark and long, almost reaching down her waist and she was wearing a long light blue dress with daisies with a white cardigan on top. She was beautiful. And she was smiling. Emil looked around to make sure she wasn’t looking at someone else, but once their eyes locked again, he was sure this smile was meant for him and him only. Woah… He looked down at his watch. 10:40… Oh well, he could spare a few more minutes to have a little chat, right?

Once the green light lit up, they both started walking, their eyes still locked. They were almost in the middle of the crossing and she smiled even wider. She was already opening her delicate mouth to greet him. Emil himself was getting ready to ask her name when…

“HOLY FUCK!”

He felt a strong impact, he fell backwards and his vision went black.

 

 

“A-Are you okay?”

He just murmured something incomprehensive, trying to wrap his head around what exactly happened. Which was quite hard, considering how much his head suddenly hurt. He felt something tickling his face and something warm and wet on his chest. When he finally opened his eyes, he saw a pair of stunningly blue eyes above him, looking worried. A few blinks and he realized the beautiful lady was now crouching next to him. He quickly sat up, almost knocking his head into hers.

“I… Uh…” he looked around all confused. He saw the empty cup at his feet and sighed when he looked down at his jacket. The coffee spilt all over him. And right next to where his head was just a second ago, his sponge cake was on the ground with a big Northern white-faced owl munching on it. He sighed.

“Are you okay?” the lady repeated. “The owl knocked you right in the face.”

“I’m fine. I’m okay.” Emil mumbled and started getting up slowly. The light was already red and the cars all around were honking.

“Are you sure?” she asked once again as she stood up too.

“Yes. Absolutely sure,” Emil said in a firm voice, trying to mask the fact that he was indeed seeing the world three times at once. The lady looked him from head to toe and finally cracked a little smile again.

“Can I maybe get you another coffee?”

But Emil only shook his head apologetically and grabbed the owl from the ground. “No, thanks. But thank you for your help,” he mumbled and walked away quickly. He was so embarrassed he didn’t even notice all the people wondering where he was going with the owl in his bare hands.

 

 

6.

“What the _fuck_ is your problem, Marvin?!” he snapped the second he got into the first empty alley. The owl was absolutely calm, though, he only stretched his leg towards Emil to reveal a small roll of parchment tied to it. Emil kneeled down to let Marvin sit on his knee and took the parchment. The letter was very short, but pretty self-explanatory.

 

_GET. YOUR ASS. IN HERE. NOW!!!!  
                                               JJ_

Emil sighed and put the piece of parchment in his pocket. He then let Marvin climb up on his shoulder and took the wand out of the inner pocket of his jacket to get rid of the coffee stains before he got back on the way.

He rushed through the whole Ministry and abruptly opened the door to his and JJ’s office.

“What was _that_ about?!” he asked abruptly and let Marvin sit on their window sill.

“Oh, look who’s finally here!” JJ smiled bright and turned around in his chair to gently pet the owl. “Such a good boy! You deserve a special treat today!”

“He already ate my cake. Just saying,” Emil mumbled and sat down at his desk.

“Oh, you’ll thank me later. I have so- The hell happened to you?” JJ suddenly froze as he looked at Emil. The tall breaded man was more scrunched up than usual, his hair was more untamed than ever and there was a big scratch on his cheek.

“What happened to me? Your fucking owl face-slammed me!” Emil finally snapped again. “I was already going to work! I left you a _note_ on your table last night! You knew I was going to come later today!”

“Oh god… Sorry, buddy, I didn’t know Marvin would take his mission so seriously…” JJ quickly got up and conjured a small comb he used to tame Emil’s hair.

“What… Are you doing?” Emil mumbled, still frowning. “I know we’re friends, but I never consented to a sleepover with hairdos, did I?”

“Oh shut up. You need to look good.”

“Why would I-“

“Don’t move, I’m almost done!”

“Goddamn it, can you stop touching me? It hurts!”

“Get your ass to the bathroom and get that face fixed,” JJ finally let go of Emil’s hair which looked ridiculously slicked.

“I don’t-“

“There will be pictures, I’m sure, so go go go, they’re waiting for you.”

“Can you please just tell me what’s going on?!” Emil slapped JJ’s hand when he tried to fix his bowtie.

“The Minister wants to talk to you,” JJ said with a big grin.

“The… WHAT?!”


	4. The Big Talk

7.

After JJ helped fix the scratch on Emil’s face (and help him calm down), he quickly rushed into the first floor. He’d never been there before, so the nervousness that JJ helped shake off was back right after he entered the elevator. Besides, everyone seemed to be staring at him. A lot of people he knew only from the halls of the Ministry, older men and women he knew occupied high positions, but he barely knew their functions, yet alone their names. He politely nodded at everyone who entered the elevator, smiling nervously, but at the second floor he found himself alone in the elevator again. With the last “ding”, he walked out of the cabin and took a deep breath. He adjusted his bowtie for the last time and started walking towards the Office. As he was about to knock on the door, he heard a familiar, sharp voice.

“You can’t be serious about this. He has no experience and you know it.”

“Give him a chance,” a firm, yet pleasant female voice replied. “We don’t have much to choose from.”

“He’s not even British,” the man replied. They both sounded calm to Emil, but he felt the tension in the air. Were they talking about… him?

“So what?”

“Does he even _know_ how things go around here?”

The woman sighed.

“He’s been working here for five years. And he’d lived here for almost ten years before that. If anyone sees the things that don’t work in here, it’s him, don’t you think?”

So they were talking about him… Emil gulped. What could they want from him? Oh well… He used the silence that set in the room and knocked on the door with his shaky hand. After being told to come in, he opened the door and entered with the ever-so-nervous smile.

“Ma’am,” he nodded at the Minister for Magic, who was standing at her desk, and quickly repeated the same gesture with the pale, blonde man standing at the window.

“Welcome, Mr. Nekola. Please, take a seat,” the Minister smiled and pointed at a chair standing in front of her desk while she herself sank in her giant arm chair. Emil did what he was told, not really able to speak. He looked around, the office was way smaller than he imagined, and still, it was probably bigger than their whole department. There were shelves with books literally everywhere and if there was one missing, a portrait of one of the previous Ministers was at its place. All the painted faces were quietly staring at him, scanning him from head to toe. He finally looked back at the Minister. He knew that Mrs. Granger was a blessing for the Ministry in the past years, but he hardly felt any of the changes she’d made. After all, he joined the Ministry after she’d already been elected. Now, this dark-skinned woman with long, bushy hair was watching him with the excited, deep eyes that could be eyes of a child as well as of a tiger ready to leap forward. He was confused and hoped it wasn’t very visible.

“Um… You called for me, ma’am?” Emil asked, still trying to remain his smile.

“We called for you two hours ago, Mr. Nekola,” the blonde man, now with his back leaning against the window sill, said, his face cold and emotionless.

“I apologize, sir,” Emil replied, but before he could continue, the Minister interrupted.

“Mr. Nekola left a note for his colleagues, Mr. Malfoy. He’s been working over-time for the past year. He deserves a few hours of rest,” she said calmly. Only now Emil realized she was looking into some papers and didn’t even look up to the man she was speaking to. But there was a smile, roguish smile on her lips the whole time. Emil didn’t know what to say, so he just smiled awkwardly. There was awkward silence before the Minister looked up again.

“So,” she cleared her throat. “You are Emil Nekola, born in Samotišky, the former player of the English national Quidditch team, currently a worker of the Department of Magical Games and Sports at the Ministry of Magic and a founder of the Magical Children Foundation, now thirty-three years old?”

“Y-Yes?” the word got almost stuck in Emil’s throat. He was so nervous…

“Well,” the Minister suddenly smiled. “I can see you are a muggle-born, is that right?” she asked. Emil was quite taken aback by the question. He still wasn’t sure why he was there. But he decided to take whatever comes with dignity and without any panic. He nodded.

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied in the firmest voice he was able to produce.

“And you went to the Faust Academy of Magical Art in Prague.”

“That’s right, ma’am,” Emil nodded again. He now figured out it was probably his résumé in her hands.

“And you stayed there until the age of eighteen.”

“Mh-m,” Emil affirmed.

“Now, please, explain to me…” the Minister leaned a bit above her desk, resting her weight on her elbows. “I can read here that you then graduated at the Palacky University in Olomouc… Can you tell us more about this? I was not aware of any magical universities in Europe,” she asked, her eyes furrowing for the first time. She looked deep in Emil’s eyes, probably trying to catch any glimpse of a lie. But Emil couldn’t help and a small chuckle escaped his mouth.

“That’s probably because it’s not a magical university, ma’am. It’s a regular muggle school. I have a degree in management,” he explained, slightly amused. Explaining his muggle education to wizards never got old.

“Is that so! How exciting!” the Minister’s eyes lit up and she sank back into her upholstered armchair. “Did you really manage to get a university degree _while_ playing Quidditch?! That’s truly admirab-“

“Excuse me, Minister, we should probably get to the point, the clock is ticking,” Mr. Malfoy interrupted. Emil’s heart almost skipped a beat at how cold his voice compared to the Minister’s was. Nevertheless, it worked. The Minister cleared her throat and quickly grabbed the papers again to focus.

“So you then played for the Czech national team, but you moved to England when you were twenty-three. Why?” she asked.

“Honestly… Because your Quidditch team sucked. No offence,” Emil quickly added. “There was a huge opportunity. The English team was lacking good players for the previous few years and the Czech Republic was full of new young stars. It was just a nerve-wrecking wait for me to get replaced while England was desperately searching for a keeper. So I moved, got my passport here and I could start winning you one match after another,” he smiled. He always spoke frankly about his moving. There was nothing romantic about it, he just wanted a good job and he found one. The Minister only nodded and her eyes started reading through the papers once again.

“And then you started working for the ministry,” she said, more to herself than to Emil, nodding. There was another while of silence, until Emil couldn’t bear it anymore.

“Ehm. Ma’am, I don’t mean to be rude, but… Why am I here?” he asked carefully. “If there’s any problem, I can assure you our department finally has all its workers in order so we can start working on everything in full force-“

“We got a tip for you, Mr. Nekola,” Mr. Malfoy interrupted again. He finally moved and walked behind the Minister, leaning his back against the wall. He sat there with his arms crossed on his chest, watching Emil’s every move with the never changing stone-cold expression in his face.

“A _tip_?” Emil repeated.

“Yes, a _tip_ ,” Mr. Malfoy sighed. “I am sure you were informed about Ludovic Bagman leaving his position,” he asked.

“With all due respect, sir,” Emil said carefully, “Mr. Bagman is not exactly the type of person who _informs_ his employees.”

He would’ve sworn he could see the Minister smiling before skillfully hiding behind Emil’s résumé. But the truth was, he saw Ludo Bagman once, when he was hired, and since then his office was empty every time he walked by it.

“Very funny,” Mr. Malfoy retorted. “So you haven’t heard?”

“No, sir.”

“Well, then you should know we are looking for a person to take upon the position of the Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports,” he explained.

“Oh…”

And then it hit him.

“Wait, and you’re considering _me_?” he blurted out. So that’s what that was about? “I am sure Mr. Bagman would agree with me saying that Jean Jacques Leroy is way more fit for this position. He is truly a leader and knows his paperwork and-“

“We have already offered this position to Mr. Leroy,” the Minister cut in on Emil in a calm voice. “Unfortunately, he said his family matters do not allow him to accept this position. And we think you are the most fit, anyways,” she added.

Emil was speechless. He was just staring at the Minister with a defiant look and didn’t know how to react. The Minister sighed, and it seemed as if all the energy left her with this one breath. She pushed herself away from the table to have enough room to put one leg over another and rested her arms on the arm rests.

“Look, Mr. Nekola, The Ministry really needs your help right now. Ireland is to host the Quidditch World Cup next year and we’ve all seen how it ended the last time Ludo Bagman tried to organize such a big event. The Department of Magical Games and Sports is in ruins. Ludo might’ve been a wonderful Quidditch player, but he definitely lacked talent in… uh…”

“Anything else?” Mr. Malfoy smirked behind the Minister. This time she didn’t even protest.

“You don’t have a family, you seem not to mind working late hours, there’s never any problem with your paperwork and you know how the sport works in practice. I am begging you, Mr. Nekola, we need you to put the Department in a good shape again and make sure the Cup is not an international scandal again,” the Minister said. For the first time, Emil could hear the despair and tiredness in her voice.

“I… I’m not sure, ma’am…” Emil said slowly. He still couldn’t fully wrap his head around it. Him? The Head of the Department?

“I know we’re asking a lot from you, Mr. Nekola. I know getting things back in order will be intricate and tiring. But I can promise your help will never be forgotten and the Ministry will stand behind everything you do,” she tried to convince Emil again, to which Mr. Malfoy cleared his throat.

“I would wait for the first achievements before letting out such weighty words, Minister,” he said, but the Minister stood up and gave him one hell of a tired look.

“Give it a rest, Draco,” she mumbled. “We don’t have much choice here.”

She turned around and walked towards the middle of the room. She looked up and her eyes travelled across all the portraits on the wall. Emil only now realized all the painted people were carefully listening the whole time.

“So, what do you think?” she asked. To Emil’s surprise, all the portraits suddenly spoke in unison, pronouncing one clear “Yes”. It sent shivers down Emil’s back. The Minister then looked back at Mr. Malfoy.

“And you?”

He sighed, but at the end, he nodded, too.

“Well then, Mr. Nekola, what do _you_ say?” the Minister asked and her eyes were once again piercing right through him.

Emil suddenly experienced an absolute overload in his mind. Was he ready for this? Was he capable of this? Could he really put the Department with a non-existent Head back in order? Is he capable of pulling such a stunt as the World Cup? What about his friendship with JJ?

He looked up and saw the desperate look in the Minister’s eyes and all the eager faces of the portraits around him. Finally, he sighed deeply and looked back at the Minister.

“Fine. I accept.”

“Thank you,” the Minister quickly walked to him and offered him a handshake. Emil stood up, though his legs were all wobbly from the shock, and shook her hand. He was already turning around to get away as quick as possible, when the sharp voice cut through the silence again.

“Do you have a wish for an assistant?” Mr. Malfoy asked bluntly.

“E-Excuse me?” Emil asked, his mind slowly shutting down from the load of new information.

“An assistant, Mr. Nekola. You didn’t believe we would let you do all the work alone, did you?” the Minister smiled and sat back at her desk.

“Uh… I really… I don’t trust anyone but JJ, but I think he’d prefer to stay at his position, if you said he already refused _your_ offer…” he said, his distant gaze set on the window.

“Then I’ll ask Ludovic’s previous assistant if he’d like to continue in this work for you. If he’s still sane after all the work his boss piled up on him, that is,” Mr Malfoy mumbled and walked towards the door. He grabbed his coat from the rack and turned to the Minister once more.

“I have to get going now, but send me an owl if you need anything,” he nodded to her and then turned to Emil. “Good luck,” he said bluntly and disappeared.

Emil was staring at the closed door for good few seconds before the Minister spoke again.

“Don’t be nervous, Mr. Nekola. Mr. Malfoy might seem a little harsh, but I trust his judgement. If he says you are fit for this job, then I believe him,” she said calmly, as if she knew Emil was internally freaking out. He could only nod.

“Take a day off today. God knows you’ve earned it by your hard work in the previous months. Please, come here tomorrow at 8, we will sign your new contract and there will be a short press conference for the Daily Prophet. Your assistant will await you in your new office at 10 and he will show you around. I’m sure you and Mr. Crispino will get along well.”

Emil nodded again. He finally managed to mutter at least a “Thank you” and he got up. He started walking to the door, his eyes glued to the carpet.

“Good bye, ma’am.”

“Have a nice day. Oh, and Mr. Nekola?” she quickly added. Emil turned back at her.

“Please, put that management degree to use,” she smiled and finally left Emil leave.

 

 


	5. The Goodbyes

8.

“… and there was this tall blonde guy, Malfoy,” Emil explained, trying to describe the eventful meeting to JJ.

“Senior or junior?” JJ asked with a lifted eyebrow.

“What’s the difference?”

“Touché…” JJ smirked.

“No, seriously, what _is_ the difference? I’ve never heard of them,” Emil sighed. He was sitting in his office chair, swinging from side to side and visibly distressed. His bowtie was on the table as he couldn’t bear being choked by it anymore, his shirt was pulled out of his pants and the first two buttons were unbuttoned. He was fidgeting with a little moving figure of a _pogrebin_ on the palm of his hand. JJ, who was walking around the tiny office and sorting out different papers, finally sat down opposite to Emil and grabbed his mug of already cold coffee.

“I think you had the honour to see young Draco,” he said. “From what I’ve heard, he doesn’t work at the Ministry. Officially, that is. But I’ve heard the Minister likes to invite him for all sorts of hearings and he’s often seen at the human resources. He seems to have a flair for seeing into people’s heads, it seems. That dude knows you’re lying even before you enter the office. And he knows stuff about you no one else knows,” he explained and took a sip of his coffee.

“ _Legilimency_?” Emil asked.

“Talent,” JJ responded with a smile. “He has his sources. And, as much as he might seem like a dick, his heart is in the right place. There are rumours he is about to join the Ministry as the Minister’s advisor, but I don’t think he will.”

“Why not?” Emil asked. He was lost in all the relations at the Ministry. He never really cared. He did his job well and knew his own co-workers and that was enough for him.

“Think about it, he’s been doing just that for ever since Granger was elected. No need to join,” JJ shrugged and tapped the mug with his wand to warm the coffee up again.

“I guess…” Emil mumbled and set the _pogrebin_ figure back at his table.

“I hope you’re taking that thing with you,” JJ said, nodding towards the tiny creature, now trying to hide between Emil’s pencil stands. “That little bastard keeps staring at me all the time.”

“That’s what they do,” Emil finally smiled and put one of his cups over the figure. He sighed and looked around. “Do you think you’ll have some time tomorrow? I’ll need help moving out…”

“Sure thing, buddy,” JJ patted Emil’s shoulder. “Just promise me to take that hideous Russian thing away,” he laughed and ruffled Emil’s hair up.

Despite having the rest of the day off, Emil spend it packing up. He was too scared he would lose any of the little mementos he gained on his travels, so he ended up just bringing a bunch of boxes and packed everything by hand. At the end of the day his desk was empty, so were his shelves, and the only thing reminding of Emil’s presence in the office was the big framed picture of him and JJ holding the Quidditch Cup.

“I can leave it here for you, you know?” Emil said, a little uneasy. They were standing in the middle of the office, JJ had his arm over Emil’s shoulders and they were staring at the picture of two young, laughing boys.

“Nah, I’ll get the one from my home here. You need this one in the office to establish your dominance. Besides, I want to make sure you won’t forget your friend that easily,” JJ laughed and gave Emil a little squeeze. But the laugh soon faded away. They were standing there in the silence, two best friends about to split up after long fifteen years of spending almost every day together.

“Just… Don’t let them break you, okay?” JJ said quietly.

“I’ll try…” Emil replied. He was watching his twenty-year-old self in the picture, laughing and jumping around, not aware of the strange future that’s ahead of him.

“If I run in here crying the next Monday, promise you won’t tell anyone?” he joked and looked at JJ with a mischievous smile, trying to bring his friend’s mood up again.

“My door is always open to you, sir,” JJ grinned and pulled Emil into a hug.

“God, don’t ever call me “sir”, that makes me feel so old!” Emil laughed and hugged JJ back.

“Oh, you’re gonna enjoy plenty of that. That Crispino dude you’re getting as an assistant looks as if someone shoved the whole _Legal Guidelines for the Manufacture of Magical Apparatus_ up his ass,” JJ laughed and let go of Emil. He started picking up all the remaining papers from his desk and stuffing them into his bag. It was already after their working hours, it was dark outside, and Emil knew he probably hurried home to his fiancé.

“Speaking of the assistant… Are you sure you don’t want the position? I’d be glad to have a familiar face with me in all that mess,” Emil spoke seriously once again. But JJ turned back with an apologetic smile.

“I’m sorry, Emil. I’d love to, except I really don’t want to…” he scratched the back of his neck. “I know I’ve left you to twist in the wind so many times this year, but I promised Isabella I wouldn’t do anything stupid. Soon we’re gonna need all the helping hands at home and I can’t let her do everything alone.”

“What do you mean?” Emil asked carefully. He was frowning. For a moment the idea that JJ might be moving away crossed his mind. Maybe they were going back to Canada? That would mean they would see each other even less…

“Uh, you know…” JJ smiled and looked away for a second. “We’re gonna have a baby.”


	6. Starting from Scratch

9.

Emil didn’t sleep. He tried to get in bed exactly four times and every time he ended up storming out of the bedroom again. He was anxious, so incredibly anxious, he couldn’t stay still for a minute. In the end, he just sat in his office, drank hot cocoa and played videogames. His stomach twisted every time he even thought of food, but he still managed to eat at least a piece of toast in the morning. He knew his first day would be busy and going to the Ministry hungry would be the biggest mistake ever. As the time to leave for work slowly approached, he was faced with a difficult choice, though.

_A suit? Or a robe?_

He sighed as he stood in front of the closet. Of course he _had_ a robe. It would be a mistake to come to England without one. But did he ever use it? Not really. He wore a tuxedo even to the annual Christmas ball of the Ministry. The robe just wasn’t his cup of tea. And now he was seriously debating himself in his mind. He’s gonna be the head of the Department. Should he look more representative from now on? Of course, Ludo Bagman wore what he wanted and no one ever said anything. But, then again, he was appointed to be anything just not like Ludo Bagman. He sighed again and rubbed his face with his hands. He was tired, so incredibly tired from the sleepless night, but he just wished that day was over already and to make that happen, he needed to move.

He took a deep breath and looked into the mirror hang on the closet door. He saw a tired man. A man who was pushed into a position he never wanted, a man who had no idea what would the next day bring. His eyes trailed over to a family picture of him, his brother and their parents when Emil was about fourteen. He furrowed his brows and looked himself in the eyes.

“Come on, Nekola, you’ve been here before,” he muttered angrily and reached out into the closet. He grabbed the rack with his favourite dark blue casual suit. Sure, it was an older one and the elbows might’ve been a little worn down, but it fit him nicely and it was comfortable. He hung the rack on the closet door and started changing.

He knew this feeling way too well. Back when he was six, he was put in a similar position. He was simply told he was a wizard and that he would attend a different school than his brother. In a different city. With different subjects. He had no idea what was going on around him, he was excited and unhappy at the same time and the feelings of anxiety took over for so long and in such intensity, it managed to shatter the whole family. He was not letting them do that again. He’d already given enough to this world. He didn’t owe this world anything. He was going to do this, do this well and do this his own way.

 

 

10.

He arrived at the Ministry ahead of time, yet still, Mr Malfoy was waiting for him with his usually unpleasant face.

“I was expecting you at least half an hour ago, where were you?” he said sharply, checking Emil out from head to toe.

Emil was wearing his blue suit with, a white shirt with a pattern of tiny little moving black cats, and his blue and red bowtie had a shining white lion in the middle with a tiny golden crow placed majestically on its head. His trousers ended above his ankles, making his green and yellow striped socks fully visible. Emil was holding his leather briefcase in one hand and a drenched black umbrella in the other. He was smiling.

“I refuse to worry for longer than needed, Mr Malfoy. These five minutes are going to be just enough for me, thank you,” he replied with a calm smile and followed the light-haired man to the Minister’s office, of course to the sound of his disapproving growling.

He had hardly a few seconds to put away his umbrella and briefcase before he was dragged into a crowd of journalists in the Minister’s office. The morning was so saturated with new and strange experiences he later ended up forcing them out of his memory without even realizing it. Not that he wasn’t used to the cameras and flashes and constant questions, but he usually knew how to answer them as they were linked to Quidditch. This time? He was lucky that the Minister was able to find the answers instead of him.

At half past ten he finally made it to his new office. The boxes from his old office were already moved there along with a note stuck to one of them. Emil took it off and opened it, recognizing the perfectly round handwriting.

 

_Here’s your stuff. I’m breaking up with you. I wouldn’t be able to live with a man of such high position. It’s not you, it’s me. Please, don’t cry and cherish the beautiful memories of us together. Good luck in finding a better man than me._

_Love, JJ_

_PS: If you fucking dare to move someone in the tiny office with me, I’ll kick your ass._

“Classic…” Emil mumbled for himself with a chuckle and he put the note in his pocket. He took out his wand, ready to start sorting the boxes out when he heard footsteps behind him.

“Mr Nekola,” a low, strangely strict voice spoke to him. “I’m glad they finally let you go, we’ve got lots of work to do today.”

Emil moved around and saw a man that he could at the first glance describe as nothing but _handsome_. The brown-haired man with olive skin was, to his surprise, wearing a fitting dark green suit, similar to Emil’s. He was carrying a stack of papers in his hands and Emil could see a _Garleus_ watch on his left wrist. He knew a pair of the cheapest ones was worth nearly as much as his apartment altogether – how wouldn’t it when it could not only tell time, but also predict some of the events happening in the near future. Emil was definitely impressed, even though he wasn’t really sure who the man was. The newcomer sent the stack of papers on one of the shelves using his wand and then walked straight to Emil to offer him a hand that Emil shook. _Ouch… Strong grip…_

“I’m Michele Crispino, your new assistant,” the man said with a stone cold face, looking Emil in the eye. He looked as someone who is constantly distressed but used to hiding it very well. Emil didn’t let it throw him off and smiled back.

“Nice to meet you. I hope we can create a great team, God knows we’ll need all the help here,” he joked.

“Oh you have no idea, sir,” Michele sighed and for the first time Emil could see a sign of emotion in his face. “This place has been such a mess for the past year,” he waved his arm around and walked over to the desk placed in the middle of the office. “There are so many forms that should’ve been signed months ago, letters Mr Bagman never opened,” he started rambling, pointing at the piles formed on top of the desk. Emil had to admit, Ludo could be as good as he wanted on a broom but giving him this office wasn’t the smartest idea. “He hasn’t responded to my owls telling him to come pick his things up, I even offered to get everything ready for him, but he just straight up ignores me… And now we have to make some place for _your_ things and I don’t know-“

“Say, Michele,” Emil interrupted him, walking over to the big window his new office had. He knew the view was fake, that the window was just enchanted to seem like there’s a park outside, but still, the view was mesmerizing to Emil. “When’s the last time you had a day off?”

“E-Excuse me?” Michele looked at his new boss all confused.

“When’s the last time you were on a vacation, Michele?” Emil repeated with a smile and turned back to his assistant.

“I… Don’t remember, to be honest,” Michele mumbled, looking down as if it was a thing to be ashamed of.

“Great!” Emil smiled even more wide and clapped his hands together. “I have a fun task for you, then.”

“Anything you need, sir,” Michele said carefully, still not sure about the whole situation.

“Go home.”

Michele stiffened.

“I… I beg you a pardon?”

 “Pack your stuff and go home,” Emil repeated, still smiling excitedly. Michele stared at him as if he was absolutely crazy.

“But… No!” the expression in Michele’s face quickly changed from confusion to straight up defiance. Emil had to laugh at how much Michele resembled an angry child. “You need to move in and we need to take care of Mr Bagman’s possessions and start working and-“ he started arguing, but Emil shook his head.

“I think I can manage to unpack my things on my own,” he said with his face lit up in slight amusement. “I can start working tomorrow, but I will need a lot of your help. And you are obviously overworked, so go home, take some rest and make sure you’re fresh for tomorrow.”

“But-“

“An _order_ , Michele,” Emil chuckled. “I’ve heard you’re quite good with those, so do me a favour, please.”

Michele almost shivered at hearing the _please_. He stared at Emil in disbelief and Emil was sure his loyalty and the urge to rest were battling inside him. Eventually, he shut his mouth and walked towards the door. He still looked back from time to time, as if he was expecting Emil to change his mind any second.

“Have a nice day!” Emil said playfully and turned back to his boxes to start the unpacking.

“Um…”

He sighed and turned over once more only to see Michele standing in the doorway. He was switching between looking at Emil and looking down at his watch, visibly indecisive whether he should speak or not. Emil wasn’t sure how to feel about this new assistant of him. He was surely hard-working, after all, he’d been the _shadow_ Head of the Department for at least a year. But not wanting a day off? That was weird. Or maybe… Was _he_ emitting such strange vibes that Michele didn’t know whether to take him seriously? He leaned his back on the tall pile of boxes and crossed his arms on his chest.

“If you want to say something, say it. I don’t want anyone biting their tongue in my office, is that clear?” he said, maybe a little more harshly than he anticipated. Michele nodded, but still seemed reluctant.

“So?” Emil raised an eyebrow.

“With all due respect, sir…” Michele started, his voice notably quieter than when he spoke before. “I don’t think you’re ready for this. I think… We don’t have that much time for all the preparations and the sooner you get to work the better.”

He said it in a slightly shaky voice, but his eyes were determined and locked with Emil’s the whole time.

“I think you’re right!” Emil suddenly chanted and smiled wide again. “I’m totally not ready for this, our deadline is behind the corner and, all in all, we’re kinda fucked,” he laughed, partially at his own words and partially at Michele being visibly offended by the use of a swear word in the office. “But I’ll tell you this,” Emil continued and walked towards Michele. “If Ludo could make the World Cup Final happen, then we can for sure make it happen, too.”

“Sir… We’re setting the _whole_ World Cup in Ireland, not just the finals…” Michele muttered, not impressed.

“Well, aren’t we absolutely screwed!” Emil grinned and put his hands on Michele’s shoulders. “Look, I know you’re probably thinking it’s Ludo Bagman all over again…”

“Pretty much, yes,” Michele replied, not amused by the body contact.

“But let me set something straight here,” Emil continued, his voice finally not sounding so hysterically affected. “I trust you fully with everything around the office. I’ve read your reports and I’m sure if Draco Malfoy still tolerates you here, he’s got a good reason for it. But I need you to trust me too, alright? We’ve got something this office never had before.”

“And that’s…?”

Emil smiled again and patted Michele’s shoulders before finally letting go of him.

“My degree in management!” he said enthusiastically and walked back to his moving boxes. “So I expect you here tomorrow at ten and we’ll start working on the schedules for everything.”

“But, sir, the working hours start at eight-“

“I know what I said, Michele, you’ll be here at ten, not a minute earlier. Understood?”

Emil, already opening the first box, heard a sigh behind him.

“Understood…” Michele murmured and turned around to leave.  And before Emil heard his footsteps in the corridor, he could hear a quiet “Thank you, sir.”


	7. Exhausted, Yet Tireless

11.

The first day was quite hectic, since Michele was very stubborn about the _“standard procedures”_ he kept rambling about. The first time Emil threw in a term from his economics classes, Michele seemed to be almost repulsed by it and Emil lost half of the day by explaining different strategies to Michele. Eventually, the passionate assistant became quite impressed by all the knowledge his boss, as opposed to the previous one, had; however, he still didn’t understand most of the stuff Emil was talking about. Before the lunch break, Emil sighed and went to his library, where all his books were displayed.

“I mean no disrespect, Michele, but you really slow me down today,” he said with a sad smile.

“I’m sorry, sir…” Michele mumbled, visibly hurt by those words.

“No, that’s okay, I know schools of magic don’t usually teach us accounting,” Emil let out a little laugh and handed Michele a copy of Economics and Management 1.

“This is one of my textbooks from the university. Would you mind reading it for me?” he asked. Michele’s face scrunched up as he flipped through a few pages.

“A muggle book?” he looked up to his boss.

“Yes, a muggle book,” Emil nodded. “It teaches you all the basics about economics and management. Your knowledge is far better than one of anyone I’ve ever met in the wizarding world, Michele, but it definitely needs some improvement. So if you could read this and make a few notes, it would be really helpful for the big job we have here.”

Michele looked puzzled. Emil was sure he must’ve felt terrible about being called out like that, especially since Ludo probably only praised this hard-working man before. But Emil also saw right through him. Michele was ambitious. He knew such knowledge would help him in his future career advancement.

“It’s muggle knowledge, sir, I don’t think it has a place at this Ministry,” he finally said and attempted to set the book down on Emil’s table, but Emil, with the swiftness of a Quidditch keeper, grabbed his wrist just strong enough to prevent him from finishing this action.

“Trust me, Michele. Not all Muggle knowledge is useless in this world. I think it’s about time we made this office a little more effective since,” he gestured to the corner of the room where all Ludo’s stuff and other unfinished business was stacked, “we have a lot to catch up on. And I don’t think we will be able to set things straight here until the end of my appointment in this position if we dwell on the old ways.”

Upon these words, Emil let go and Michele, probably more surprised by his own action than by Emil’s words, nodded and took the book.

“Go home for today. Study the book, try to understand things, if it becomes confusing,  there are some of my notes on the edges. Oh, and,” Emil reached into one of the drawers of his desk and pulled out an old school v-shaped mobile phone. “Here. Have you ever seen one of these?” he asked.

Michele looked even more confused, but he didn’t dare to speak.

“Alright, alright,” Emil sighed and showed the device better to his assistant. “This is a mobile phone. You can go with it anywhere and call and text people any time you need.”

After a short tutorial, Michele seemed pretty confident with operating the new strange device and tried to send Emil a text message on his own. Emil looked prouder than ever.

“Alright, my genius child,” he laughed when he received a text message full of typos. “I will look into the first rounds of the tournament and try to schedule those. You try to look at the Quarter-finals at home and we’ll try to put it together tomorrow. If there’s any problem, call me any time. And I mean _any_ time. Even at night. We don’t have much time to lose. All clear?”

“All clear, sir.” Michele nodded and started packing up his various notebooks and books into a bag.

“Um, sir…?”

“Yes?” Emil answered, even though he was already reading into the long list of all the registered national teams.

“Can I at least bring you lunch before I go?”

Emil finally lifted his head up and gave Michele a wide smile.

“That would be brilliant! Could you get me a tuna sandwich and a beer?”

“A… Beer. You’re at work, sir.”

“Yeah, I know. Thank you, Michele,” Emil replied and buried himself in the pile of papers again.

 

12.

A month passed and the budget wasn’t anywhere near to be set. Emil spent days and nights in the office, working almost non-stop, sleeping on the awfully small sofa he had brought into the office from the hall. Michele, being the busy bee he was, spent the nights studying Emil’s textbooks to get the full gist of the subject, and he quite succeeded. The problem was it was not enough.

“Do you realize we’re in trouble, sir?”

“No. But I realize we’re fucked,” Emil sighed and set a document he was just reading back on the desk.

“Please, stop cursing like that…” Michele opposed quietly.

“Make me.”

Michele rolled his eyes and set his stack of documents on the table too. He sat down on the small sofa in the corner of Emil’s office and stretched his back, to which Emil’s yawn resonated through the whole office. They had spent the whole night coming up with _something_ before the morning meeting with Mr Malfoy who was to pay them a visit instead of the Minister who’d just left for an unexpected summit in Estonia on the rapidly declining population of Mestiks due to the climate change.

Needless to say, they still didn’t have a solid plan. Sure, they had sort-of figured out the qualifications and match schedules, sure, they had sort-of figured out the money needed. But it was all just sort-of. They just didn’t have the capacity to think of both the game-related and management-related stuff at the same time in only two people and Emil didn’t trust anyone besides JJ enough to let them help with such an important task, despite Michele’s constant suggestions of new possible co-workers (during which he called Emil a “foolish baboon” the previous night because he just kept declining).

“I’m done, sir. I’ve got nothing,” Michele said, absolutely wasted.

“Yeah, same,” Emil mumbled and laid his head down on the table to rest a little.

“What are you going to do?”

“It’s Draco Malfoy,” Emil replied. “I’ll just talk until he gets annoyed and leaves.”

“You can be sure, Mr Nekola, that I am most annoyed before even entering your office.”

Emil jumped up and looked around in confusion. Michele, still in the corner, stood up and quickly smoothed out the wrinkles on his trousers and shirt to look at least a little presentable. It took Emil a second to realize Malfoy was standing in the middle of his office, giving him a strict look.

Unlike Michele, though, Emil took his time to get ready. He had not slept for almost two whole nights and he was not going to pretend he was okay. Hard work shouldn’t ever be hidden from the bosses, as his father always said. He slowly stood up, cleaned his desk off of useless scraps of paper and rolled up his sleeves before offering a hand to the new guest.

“Welcome, Mr Malfoy. I apologize you have found us at such wrecked condition,” he said as Malfoy shook his hand. With a swift move of his wand, he materialized a chair right behind the visitor to allow him to get comfortable.

“So, what do you have for us, Minister?” Malfoy asked in the most strict voice he could produce. His eyes pierced Emil’s and he carefully watched every move the new minister made.

“Well, since you’ve asked,” Emil went through one of the folders and handed Malfoy a paper.

“That’s… Just the schedule of the matches, Mr Nekola,” Malfoy said after scanning the paper.

“Yup.”

“Don’t “yup” me,” Malfoy replied. “You had strict orders to come up with a budget plan in a month. Are you implying you failed to do so?”

“No, not at all, sir,” Emil said, taking a sip of his coffee. “I’m very openly telling you we failed miserably.”

“You are getting on my nerves, Nekola,” Malfoy said through his teeth and threw the paper back on the table. “You had strict orders. We gave you all the people of the Ministry at hand and you didn’t use their help only to tell us you didn’t do your job?!”

“That’s _mister_ Nekola for you, sir,” Emil replied calmly and leaned back on the chair. “And I know the orders I got, trust me, I have them burned into my mind and can’t get rid of them even when I’m trying to sleep. The thing is, however, that none of the Ministry’s workers are skilled at the fields I need them to be. Michele,” he pointed over to his assistant, “Michele was so kind and selfless to spend his highly valuable free time to learn all the basics of economics and management, which I’m deeply thankful for.”

He could see Michele looking on his shoes with a humble smile.

“See, we’ve put everything we’ve got into this. If you think the schedule is not enough, let me inform you that this whole pile,” he patted the high column of papers and folders, “is full of our budget work. These are rough sketches, different proposals and brand deals that we’ve got to work on. But we can’t really sit on two horses at the same time. My butt is definitely not built for that.”

“Get to the point, I don’t have all day.”

Emil remained quiet for a second. He buried his face in his hands with his elbows on the table.

“I need your answer, Minister. What are you going to do about this situation? The clock’s ticking and we don’t have much time to spa-“

“I need an owl,” Emil suddenly said and looked up.

“Excuse me?”

“I need an owl! Michele, come on, dude, get me an owl, pronto!”

Michele, as confused as Mr Malfoy, mumbled a quiet “okay” and disappeared.

“What is this all about?!” Malfoy finally snapped.

“I need to write a letter. I know exactly who can help us with this whole mess.”

“Who is it?”

“I’m sorry, Mr Malfoy, but I think you don’t want me to bother you, we don’t have much time to spare, after all,” Emil smiled and stood up, as the energy was brought back to his body with the brilliant idea.

“What are you… Mr Nekola, I demand you inform me of your next step!”

“Come in a week. I promise I’ll have at least some answers for you, sir. Have a nice day!” Emil said with a smile and opened the door for Malfoy.

“This is outrageous!”

“Have a nice day, Mr Malfoy!” Emil repeated in a firmer, yet still friendly voice.

Malfoy stormed out of the room and Emil would swear he heard him muttering something along the line “The Minister will hear about this”. He laughed quietly and closed the door behind the visitor. He immediately sat back at the table and searched for a clean sheet of parchment and a quill. In a few minutes he finally started writing.

 

_Dear Viktor,_

_I hope this letter finds you in a good state of mind, for these next paragraphs I will voice a favour far larger than any of us could ever imagine. Brace yourself for the rollercoaster. …_


	8. Golden Lane

13.

He took a deep breath. He had never spent much time outside of school, but from the few short visits of the “upperground”, he always remembered this. The distinct smell of Hradčany, the Castle District. His visits at the magically stunning place had always been very brief – his family had never had much money to invest into his education – but the shorter time he spent there, the dearer this place grew to his heart.

He had not visited there ever since he moved to London. And now he was here, ready to spend. Spend his time, that is. He had enough money now to afford everything he never could as a child, but when he reached inside his heart, he knew well that was not what made the place magical for him. He loved the tiny houses, colourful and so inviting. He loved how the cramped alley gave him chills, how the mystery breathed out of every open door and window.

“Oh, no, thank you,” he smiled and politely declined a chubby salesman, who tried to give him a ‘great deal’ on a wooden paperweight with the Castle that he claimed was hand-carved. Emil knew this place had become a place of overpriced souvenirs and fake spooky stories for the Muggles. He himself knew a handful of them from his grandparents, who lived in Prague. But the school years had taught him the Golden Lane was hiding more secrets. Chilling, horrifying, amusing or just interesting, nevertheless, they were secrets.

Emil walked along the cramped alley full of tourists taking the bait in a form of overpriced souvenir shops. Surprisingly he was not heading to any of the little cosy houses, but right to the bulwark wall. He didn’t bother to look around. No one paid attention to him. Why would they, when they were enjoying their few minutes at such a mystique place? Emil stopped at an old-fashioned street lamp and looked into the empty space in front of him. There was nothing but the road paved with cobble stones and an empty, boring wall. His wand slipped out of his sleeve and he gently tapped the street lamp.

Suddenly another tiny house appeared in front of him. The colour of its walls resembled a night sky above Prague, the roof was as black as the reputation of Alchemists who used to live on this street, and the dim light behind the windows along with the smoke coming out of the chimney filled his heart with nostalgia. He remembered how happy he was as a child when he first saw the black lantern hanging next to the door that, despite the glass being covered in smudges of dirt, emitted such friendly, bright light. Soon, a string of golden letters appeared above the door. “U Poslední Lucerny” – _At the Last Lantern._ Emil hid his wand in the pocket and walked inside.

“If it isn’t the young Nekola boy?” an old, raspy voice suddenly said. Emil turned around be greeted by a warm, familiar face.

“My dear mister Meyrink,” he said, almost tearing up at the sight of the old energic man walking to him.

“I was starting to think you’d forgotten about good old Gustav. I was starting to think you’d never come again! How rude of you, Emil, to not even send a letter!” the old man scolded Emil with a knowing smile. He placed his hands on Emil’s shoulders and checked him out as if he was to make sure there was nothing wrong with him.

“Dear Lord, you’ve grown. I remember you not even reaching up to my chest when you first came here!” he laughed wholeheartedly.

“On the other hand, you look as amazing as usual, mister Meyrink. Didn’t age a day since I last saw you!” Emil grinned back. In the dim light he could see there were definitely a few new wrinkles on Meyrink’s skinny face. But his moustache was as bushy as he remembered it and his eyes just as wise and calm as when they met the last time.

“Oh, it wouldn’t be you without all the courtesy,” Meyrink shook his head with another laugh and patted Emil’s shoulder. “Come, take a seat, my dear. We have so much to talk about!”

“I can’t stay for long, mister Meyrink,” Emil replied as he sat down at the offered chair at the fireplace. Meyrink, the slim yet energic old man, sat down opposite to him.

“How could you? I can’t even imagine all the duties you have now, son,” he shook his head. “Young Emil Nekola. Who would’ve thought the little muggle-born boy who loved animals and quidditch would become the Head of a whole British Ministry department?” Meyrink said with pride in the raspy voice.

“I can assure you it sounds just as unbelievable to me as it does to you,” Emil said with his smile fading.

“They pushed you in there, didn’t they?”

Emil nodded and rubbed his eyes. He was tired. So, so tired.

“Well, it’s all your responsibility now,” Meyrink said after a brief silence. “They gave you either a great opportunity or a terrible burden. It’s your choice that matters.”

Emil’s eyes landed on the fireplace. For a few moments he listened only to the crackling embers in the dying fire.

“But how do I know?” he finally looked up to his old friend. “How do I know that I’m not making everything worse? How can I be sure that saying yes was the right thing?”

“My dearest Emil,” Meyrink reached for Emil’s hand and gave it a firm squeeze. “Just because your office is falling on your head now, it doesn’t mean you can’t pick it up and build a beautiful room out of it again. Just listen to your heart and your mind. You always were a bright young boy. Now you are a bright young man. I believe that deep in your heart you know what’s right.”

“That’s not a very specific, is it…”

“You know old Gustav too well to expect a direct answer,” Meyrink laughed and patted Emil’s hand. “But if you’re still not satisfied, pay a visit to Matylda. I bet she’s been waiting for you.”

Emil smiled and got up.

“Thank you, mister Meyrink. I wish I could stay a little longer,” Emil apologized.

“And I wish I could offer you at least a cup of tea, my dear. But you know…”

“I know.”

Emil nodded with a soft smile. He knew that ever since the famous writer Gustav Meyrink crossed to the other side, which many considered his death, his body no longer needed food nor drinks. He enjoyed his time in this modest, empty house and lived off meditation, prayer and philosophical thought. His little living room served as a station between the Prague of sight-seeing Muggles and the Prague of almighty wizards, alchemists, psychics and supernatural beings. Yet he never complained and greeted every new face as an old friend. Sometimes Emil wished he could be more like his old friend.

“I will see you on my way back!” Emil said his farewell and disappeared in the door that long, long time ago used to lead to a small back yard. Meyrink watched Emil leave, waved with his skinny, trembling hand and went upstairs.

 

14.

Emil stepped out into the cold air. It took a while before his eyes got used to the gloomy view in front of him – the long, cramped street with tiny, colourful houses, embellished with two rows of old-fashioned street lamps on both sides. On the first glance, the street looked exactly as the one he just left, except for the cold, night air. There was always night in the Magical Prague, allowing the magic to happen and the creatures to come out all day along. Emil’s nose got hit by a wonderful smell of cinnamon and mulled wine and he knew he was back home. He stepped down from Meyrink’s doorstep and walked right into the crowd.

Not much had changed there over the past years, he noticed. The street was full of people dressed either in the 30s fashion or in modern clothes. He himself blended in quite nicely with his grey suit and a flat cap. And since it was a late afternoon, he noticed a few students in their school uniforms, looking for school supplies. Or, perhaps, for some fun. All the windows displayed numerous gadgets a witch or a wizard might need, but, as opposed to the Diagon Alley in London, none of the vendors were shouting out their current offers. The Golden Lane was a quiet, peaceful place, where everyone came to have a good time and relax.

Emil walked inside a bright red house with a golden coin and a hammer painted above the entrance. Unlike all the other stores and shops on the street, this one didn’t have a bell above the door to notice everyone of a newcomer. A musty smell and coldness immediately reached Emil’s face, but he didn’t stop smiling. For a second, he watched the movement in the big room. A dozen of small men-like creatures walked around, leaving black footsteps all around the floor. They hardly reached up to Emil’s waist, their heads were disproportionally big, as well as their feet with scuffed shoes on them. They all had beards, all of them shabby, but each of a different colour. They were wearing miners’ clothes, were all dirty, and they were carrying little buckets of dirt from the next room and poured their contents into a loud machine. When Emil squinted, he could sometimes see small golden specks in it.

“Zdař Bůh!” he greeted everyone loudly. The movement in the room stopped for a second, only so that everyone could look at Emil and reply in unison:

_“Zdař Bůh!”_

The whole room went back to work while Emil walked into the next room where a young lady was sitting at a desk. She was slim, her black hair was neatly styled into combed back ringlets and she was wearing a lovely red flapper day dress. As much as tidy her office was, there was a big hole in the wall behind her desk, out of which the little men walked and into which they always returned.

“What can I do for you?” she asked Emil in a sweet voice and pointed at a comfortable looking arm-chair opposite to her desk. Emil sat down and looked at the name plate majestically standing on the desk and saying that the charming lady’s name was Bedřiška Meislová.

“I suppose old mister Meisl finally fulfilled the promise of enjoying his pension,” Emil sat down with a friendly smile.

“Yes, my father finally realized his health would be so much better if he spent his days playing golf instead of stressing out over money,” she replied. “But I suppose you haven’t been here for a really long time. I have taken the business over exactly three years ago,” she added and pointed at a big photography on the wall behind here, in which her father was shaking her hand at the grand re-opening of the bank.

“Congratulations,” Emil gave her a polite nod. “I’ve heard working with one Permoník can be quite tricky. Yet alone when you have a whole town of them to deal with.”

Emil watched one of the Permoníks walk around him with another bucket of mined rocks.

“Oh no, not at all,” she replied, shaking her head with a wide smile. “As soon as we implemented proper work contracts and raised their pays, everything is going smoothly. We actually have quite a nice relationship.”

“Glad to hear that, miss.”

“But now, I would really love to know what brings you here, sir,” she changed the tone into a strictly business one. “Do you wish to deposit, withdraw or exchange?”

“Exchange, please,” Emil said and took a pouch of coins out of his pocket. Bedřiška shivered with excitement.

“Oooh we haven’t been exchanging for a long time! What do you have for us?”

“Mostly galeons,” Emil replied and set the pouch on her desk. She put on white floves, emptied the pouch and immediately started counting. Emil couldn’t help but smile as Bedřiška carefully examined each and every coin before her before finally writing down the total amount and calculating the exchange rate.

Soon Emil had his pouch full of tolars. He thanked and with another loud ‘Zdař Bůh!’ walked back into the fresh night air.

He looked around to gain some sense of orientation in the crowded place and started walking towards the Dalibor Tower. He stopped at a flower shop and picked up two pink Transvaal daisies. He had the flower boy carefully wrap them in some paper with a beautiful, moving flower print on it, and headed back on his way.

He made only a few steps before his vision got blurred and his body got hijacked by the coldest, most disgusting feeling. He shook his body to get rid of the shivers going down his back and looked around all confused as his vision cleared up.

“Franz! Franz, come back this instance!”

The familiar voice made him laugh. He soon realized what just happened, as he saw the back of a silvery, translucent man disappear in the crowd. He looked behind himself and saw just whom he expected.

“Ottla!” he cried out.

The pale face of another ghostly figure suddenly lightened up.

“Oh dear! If it isn’t Emil!” the young woman cried out and quickly hid the tea towel she was waving in the air in the pocket of her apron.

“Well don’t stand there like a buffoon! Come in!” she said, and Emil followed her transparent figure floating back into the little blue house.

“Our beloved Emil, where have you been all this time?” she said, offering Emil a chair to sit on. “We have been so worried until we’ve heard about your new work! Franz was so proud of you. Or rather I _believe_ he _would be_ if he could stop focusing only on all the mischief,” she added, looking out of the window on the street where her brother disappeared just a second ago.

“Glad to see the writers’ wars are still in full force,” Emil laughed. Ottla only rolled his eyes.

“It’s been decades! One would think they would grow tired of it, but no. They’re just big children!” she complained and sat next to Emil.

“Today, Seifert pinned another dirty poem on our door. And instead of telling him to stop, Franz just wrote a similar, just as obscene four-line stanza and ran to Seifert’s house. Would you believe it? Wasting their talents like this?”

“I would, Ottla, of course I would,” Emil laughed. Just the idea of Franz Kafka arguing with Jaroslav Seifert always cracked him up. “I can guarantee you me and my brother would do exactly the same, even in our age!”

“Oh, speaking of your brother!” Ottla suddenly lit up again and reached for Emil’s hand. Emil shivered at the cold touch, but he was polite enough not to say anything.

“He was here a week ago!” she continued, only causing Emil to stiffen up.

“He was here? No, he wouldn’t…” he shook his head.

“Really, my dear! It was him and his wife! What a lovely lady, we’ve talked all afternoon,” she said dreamily. “And those two little ones, oh how adorable they were!”

Emil’s head started spinning. He was starting to think he dreamt this whole lovely journey up.

“Ottla, you must have mistaken someone else for them. You know how my brother is…”

“Is your brother’s name Jan?” she asked firmly.

“Yes,” Emil nodded.

“Is his wife’s name Maruška?”

“Mhm.”

“And the boys are Šimon and Jakub?”

“That’s right.”

“And Maruška sews her own clothes and it’s stunning.”

“Merlin’s Beard!” Emil cried out and stood up. “But what were they doing here, Ottla?!” he asked, equally confused, excited and worried.

“They were asking about you, silly,” Ottla laughed. “They seemed very lost here, so I took them in. Once they figured out me and Franz know you, they started asking, but, unfortunately, we couldn’t give much information. You know we’re not fans of the Czech papers these days.”

“Understandably…”

“Well, we had tea and Franz played with the two rascals and we spoke all afternoon, it was great. Except for your brother. He’s a little bit…”

“Grumpy?” Emil guessed with a smirk.

“Yes. He hardly ever spoke. But Maruška was amazing,” she stood up and went to the window, presumably watching if her brother was coming back.

“They asked where they could get an owl and then left. I told them to go to the Presl’s.”

Wow… Emil sat back down, absolutely stunned. His brother, who never even wanted to hear anything about the wizarding world, took his family to the Golden Lane? There were times he would never admit he remembered how to get there in the first place. But before he could come up with some idea, his digital watch started beeping. He checked the time and sighed.

“Thank you for taking me in, Ottla, it was lovely to see you again. But I have some business here that needs to be taken care of,” he stood up and bowed to his host.

“It’s always pleasure seeing you, Emil. Come back soon, I’m sure Franz will love to see you too,” Ottla bowed too and let Emil out. “And say hi to your brother when you speak!” she shouted as Emil disappeared in the crowd. 


	9. All the Way Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emil returns to the scene of crime - his former school - in hopes to recruit volunteers for the World Cup. He also reveals one of his new helpers on this way to insanity.

His eyes widened in disbelief as a cloud of steam ascended from his parted lips. Was it always this cold there? He was walking through a dark, wet tunnel the ceiling of which was way too low for him. Holding the wand in front of him, the thin strip of light coming from the tip of it showed him the dreadful way in front of him. He didn’t dare to look to the distance, though. As much as he wanted to get out of the cold, draftfull place as soon as possible, he couldn’t raise his gaze from the wet floor. The last thing he wanted was to slip and fall. The mouldy, musky smell was filling his lungs and all he wanted was to get out of there as soon as possible. And hire a bunch of professional cleaning witches to get the place back in shape.

After what seemed like eternity, the ceiling started raising up and Emil could finally stand up freely. Soon he stood in front of a big wooden door that looked like it had definitely seen some better times, and he tapped the iron plate placed right where the doorknob would’ve normally been. The iron plate started glowing with faint blue light and a strict, yet calm female voice filled the empty corridor.

“What’s the password?”

Emil stood there taken aback. A password? How on Earth would he know a password? No one’s told him any password! What was this witchcraft?!

He scratched his beard and took a deep breath to calm down. Which was definitely uneasy, when the air all around smelt like a dead rainforest.

“Let me see…” he mumbled.

“Incorrect,” the voice said, sounding almost uninterested.

“I wasn’t saying the password,” Emil replied pettily.

“Incorrect,” replied the voice.

“Oh, come on!” Emil threw his arm around angrily, unable to think at all.

“Incorrect. We are terribly sorry, you cannot enter.”

The second these words resonated through the lonely corridor, something grabbed Emil from behind. He felt two giant hands clasping him, long fingers wrapping around his upper arms and lifting his whole body up without a slight problem. He desperately tried to think of something, but he could not move his arms to aim his wand in any way and the panic soon started taking over his body. Even though he tried to kick, his feet just comically dangled in the air. He was helpless. The only thing he could do was to wait and pray that he would survive being squeezed up by these giant, stone cold hands. He couldn’t see anything, but he felt the creature holding him turning around to face back into the dark corridor.

“Enough!” a high-pitched voice pierced Emil’s ears. “Put the man down this instance! Can you not see who that is?!”

Suddenly the grasp on Emil’s body weakened and he, without any warning, fell on the ground. So much about being worried about slipping and falling. He quickly got back on his feet and tried to dust off his suit. He turned around and suddenly found himself petrified by the view in front of him. The wooden door was open and the light seeping through it into the tunnel revealed a giant figure facing Emil. Well, “facing” was not the right word. The figure was almost twice as big as Emil and it was staring into the distance. It was not moving, as if it was not even breathing.

“I am terribly sorry, I truly am,” a woman rushed around the figure right to Emil. She was in her forties was about a head shorter than Emil himself and wore a warm blue sweater and a black pencil skirt. Her eyes were framed by thin black glasses and her hair, a dark brown overgrown messy bob, definitely revealed that this woman didn’t have much time for herself. He face was full of worries and she immediately started dusting off Emil’s back.

“I told them this was a bad idea. I’ve told them so many times,” she was murmuring under her breath, straightening Emil’s collar. Only then Emil finally realized who he was facing.

“Mrs. Lišková!” his eyes widened and his lips stretched into a wide smile.

“Oh, please. Call me Kamila,” she gave him a tired look. “You’re a twice-as-tall-as-me Ministry worker, I can’t have you call me the same way you did when you were a student here,” she mumbled and turned to the enormous creature still motionlessly standing next to them.

“Go back to your place. And don’t grab people like this. We’ve talked about that,” she said strictly and with a quiet ‘Let’s go’ walked back inside the big wooden door. As Emil followed her in, he heard the heavy steps of the creature. The woman was almost sprinting in front of him and he had to walk quite fast to catch up to her. Finally, a waft of hot air touched Emil’s face and the smell of mold was quickly replaced by the old, familiar smell of old wooden furniture and uncleaned carpet.

“Golem,” she answered the question Emil didn’t manage to ask in time. “I’m very sorry about this all, I know the new entrance is rather uncomfortable, especially for a visitor like you. But just two days ago a group of muggles discovered the entrance and we had to take a few quick precautions before the Minister finds time to do something about it,” she sighed. “You know how it is, education is never the priority…” she continued her rant. “I told them not to do anything this drastic, Golem is not ours to use, anyways. I feel so inappropriate having him guarding our door in that wet, cold dump!” she complained. “Unfortunately, it was the only thing the Ministry could equip us with at this time, so… Golem it is…” she finally stopped and opened another door. “Welcome back, Emil,” Kamila finally smiled and let Emil in.

The warm air and smell of firewood filled in his nose as he stepped inside the big entrance hall he hadn’t seen in decades. The room was not very big, but it definitely could fit all 250 students that attended the school. When he looked up, he could see the high ceiling with a giant mural of a man signing away his soul to the devil.

“I’ve always loved that painting,” Emil said. “My whole life it’s been reminding me not to sign any contract I haven’t fully read,” he grinned. “Poor doctor Faustus…”

“Speaking of which…” Kamila smiled at a ghost of an old man floating around. He seemed lost in his thoughts, but as soon as he heard Kamila’s voice, he turned his head to the two of them.

“Well, that’s what I call a rare visitor! If it isn’t Mr. Nekola?!” the man exclaimed and floated right to them.

“Hi, Doctor,” Emil waved. “Still trying to escape Hell?”

“That nasty son of a Devil is not getting me for as long as I have one last braincell!” Faust exclaimed and made a threatening gesture towards the ceiling painting.

“Good luck, it was pleasure seeing you, sir,” Emil grinned and followed Kamila up the stone staircase. Emil remembered that the two doors in the entrance hall lead to the dining room and the kitchen, while the stairs up, though quite low, lead to the classrooms and offices. He followed Kamila with an awe in his eyes, observing all the changes that happened there since he’d been gone. The portraits on the walls were way dirtier than he remembered, some of the moving faces were hardly recognizable. The dark red carpets on the stone floors were long faded and dirty and most of the old furniture in the halls was lacking its shine. Still, the place felt homely and it felt amazing to be back. They walked past a number of doors. Just regular doors that lead to different classrooms and club rooms. Hardly ever door was ever guarded by a password when he was a student there, but after his recent experience, he wondered if that was still the case. They took a sharp turn and Kamila let him inside her office. The principal office. It was just a room, a little bigger than an office should probably be, full of bookshelves and with a big window behind Kamila’s old-fashion desk. Of course, the window was enchanted to show a beautiful view of a park, just like the windows at the British Ministry of Magic. The school, just like the ministry, was located in the underground. Emil immediately smelt vanilla and remembered Kamila’s love for scented candles. He also noticed a cage hanging from the ceiling in the corner of the office and he was glad to see the little owl he remembered as a child was still well and alive.

“I see Albert is still keeping you company,” he walked right to the cage. The little owl was missing one eye, but the remaining one was gazing right back at Emil.

“Of course, he is. He’s probably the only reasonable creature under this roof,” Kamila let out a light laugh and sat down behind her desk. With a hand gesture she offered a seat to Emil too and he, of course, accepted.

“So, tell me, Emil. What brings you here all of sudden?” she asked and Emil noticed a slight spark of curiosity behind her glasses.

“Actually, I am here for a little recruitment,” Emil replied, getting comfy in his chair. “As you know, I was, and quite unfortunately I must say, assigned the task to coordinate this year’s Quidditch World Cup. We don’t have much money and we have even less time, so I decided to seek help within volunteers from schools. Of course, before I offer this opportunity to anyone else, I want to give a chance to my alma mater,” Emil explained calmly, as Kamila burned through him with her excited gaze.

“What does it mean for the school?” she asked carefully.

“Growing prestige by being listed among the partners, of course. All I ask is twenty students I could borrow for about two weeks.”

“I can give you five.”

“Ten.”

“Five.”

“At least eight, please!”

“I’ll give you four. End of discussion,” Kamila stood up and walked around the table.

“Look, Emil, I would love to give you as many people as you want, but we are a small school. I can’t just let twenty people leave, that’s all the kids of age we have here! And I’m, of course, not letting any underage kids go across the sea just like that,” she said and walked out of the office, expecting Emil to follow her again. “I’ll give you four people, maybe five if I see you really need them. But I can’t force anyone, I hope you understand that,” she stopped in front of a door. Emil could hear quiet talking behind it. “You have five minutes,” she said and opened the door.

Emil walked right into a senior year potions class. He had to smile at how obsolete the classroom looked – it had not changed one bit from when he’d seen it last. He shook hands with the ancient-looking, breaded professor, who seemed so excited to meet him, Emil was worried he would pass out any minute. But as time was an issue, Emil stood in front of the blackboard and cleared his throat. He felt nervous, especially since he heard curious whispering and giggling, and he doubted the kids were excited about seeing a head of a British Ministry Department.

“Uh… Hi. My name is Emil Nekola and some time ago I’ve been sitting right where you are. I, uh, I came here with quite a unique offer for all of you,” he said and he briefly explained his whole ordeal with the World Cup.

“What’s in it for us?” a girl sitting near the door asked.

“I’ll be honest with you,” he sighed. “The budget is tight and the schedule is even tighter. So, our only chance is, how do I put it… Cheap work force. That’s you, students,” he rubbed the back of his head. “I know it sounds terrible, but still, it can be a nice experience for you. We can pay for your travelling costs, board and lodging, you will get most of the working clothes as well. You don’t have to pay for a thing and you’ll be excused from school for up to two weeks. If we’re satisfied with your work, you could get to the World Cup itself.”

“Is there a chance to get a recommendation letter from you after school?” asked another student. Emil was quite surprised, he wasn’t expecting for the children to be even interested.

“Yes, of course. If you need one for a future job, I will gladly write you a recommendation. So, please, hand in your written applications to your Headmistress till the end of this month and I’ll be looking forward to reading them.”

“Will we meet any famous Quidditch players?” a boy from the back asked at last. Emil couldn’t help but laugh.

“What, am _I_ not enough for you?” he joked. “But, in all seriousness, I’m not sure yet. But I’ll do all I can to get all my volunteers at least signed photograph of any player attending the Cup. And, uh… One of the groups will be leaded by Viktor Krum. So maybe you’ll get to meet him.”

He finally said his goodbye, apologized once again for disturbing the Potions class and backed out of the classroom. As the door closed behind him, he noticed a roguish smile on Kamila’s lips.

“What?”

“You are still just as awkward as I remember,” she shook her head. “You should work on your public speaking. I know you’re primarily a Quidditch player, but I doubt the British Ministry takes you seriously at all.”

“Wish all due respect, Kamila, if they did, they wouldn’t ever try to dump this whole mess of a Ministry department at me,” Emil sighed. He was taking a breath in to continue, but suddenly he heard quick steps and before he could turn around to see who was causing them, he found himself on the floor.

“Oof!” he breathed out. He didn’t even try to get up. He was laying there like a sad pancake that’d been thrown around too many times in one day. Which he certainly was. He heard a boy apologizing, but he was soon interrupted.

“How dare you!” he heard Kamila’s voice, which in anger raised about an octave higher than usual. She kept yelling at the boy and Emil would swear she gave him a few slaps on the head, judging from the “Ow, ow, ow,” he heard as well.

He slowly got back up and tried to adjust his shirt and jacket, both of which already looked so crumpled up, there was no use in doing so anyways.

“That’s the fourth time this week you’re going late!” Kamila yelled at the boy standing in front of her. He was tall, but quite stubby, his short curly hair gradually changed into a short beard on his cheeks. He was wearing a dirty lab coat on his school uniform and he looked just as confused as Emil felt.

“Yeah, I know. But Monfred escaped again,” he replied, as if that was the most obvious thing in the world.

“I don’t give one damn about your lousy rat! You are supposed to be attending your Potions class right now, Mr. Říha!” Kamila cut his sentence short.

“Come on! I’ve told you like a thousand times! My new name is Irmantas Bleskus!” the boy complained.

“As long as It is not written in your school profile card, you are still Svatopluk Říha for me,” Kamila retorted. “Get to your class. Now,” she said strictly and watched the boy until he disappeared in the classroom.

She sighed and the corridor fell into a strange silence.

“I’ll give you five,” Kamila finally spoke.

“What’s the catch?” Emil raised an eyebrow.

“You take Svatopluk as far away from me as you can. For two weeks.”

“Deal.”


	10. Let the Madness Begin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The preparations for the World Cup have begun and Emil's vital help is finally here, stirring up pretty much every workplace he sets his foot to!

16.

It was hard. So, so hard to keep his face straight. He hadn’t had such a funny view ever since he joined the ministry and this whole circus was such a soul healing moment for him.

Emil was standing in the Minister’s office, a light smile on his face and eyes glued to Malfoy whose every brain cell was obviously strained by the effort to keep his mouth shut at any cost. Malfoy had been in his usual good mood, which meant having petty comments on everyone he met that morning on his way to the office. That smaug smile froze on his face the second he walked in, though, and Emil, though well raised and knowing that one should not wish bad things upon the other, found quite some pleasure in the fact that it was, indeed, his doing. Malfoy’s face turned a whole different shade of pale at the sight of a man leaning down to kiss the top of Minister’s hand.

            “There he is!” Granger said with a hesitant smile and retrieved her hand from the visitor’s grip. “You might remember my assistant from Hogwarts as well. Meet Draco Malfoy.” She watched the two men shake hands, knowing there was no need to mention the name of the other. Definitely not to Draco, who knew his quidditch players like the palm of his hand. Emil’s smile widened again at the sight, as the two men couldn’t be more different from each other. Next to rather scrawny and pale Malfoy, Viktor Krum seemed even bigger and more masculine than usually. Though his posture was still as terrible as when he was visiting Hogwarts, he was still a good head and a half taller than Malfoy. Dressed in a fitted suit rather than a robe, his well-built body was on everyone’s sight to admire. His eyebrows might not be as bushy as one remembered from all the collectors’ cards, and his previously wild hair was cut very short as well. On the other hand, but the light stubble on his cheeks made up for it. Viktor’s gaze was no longer grumpy, as with age he gained knowledge and, after the long-desired World Cup victory, finally even inner peace. Although he wasn’t smiling, he was looking at Malfoy with such a warm-hearted gaze it threw Malfoy completely off.

“I’ve heard only the best about your work, Mr. Malfoy,” Viktor said in his deep voice. Malfoy stuttered out a confused “Same” and their hands finally parted.

“Draco, Viktor was so kind to come here upon Mr. Nekola’s request. He is going to join the preparations team,” Emil slightly nodded, still desperately trying to keep himself together as Draco glared at him angrily. “I expect you to be at hand for him as well from now on.”

“Understood,” Malfoy replied sternly. “Should I take care of your accommodation?” he finally turned his gaze back to Viktor, trying with all his might to not sound angry or disappointed.

“Oh no, that’s fine,” Viktor finally smiled. “I’ll stay with Emil. I don’t want to waste much money here.”

“Yeah, and I spend most of the nights in the office anyways,” Emil shrugged.

“Are you sure you don’t want a hotel?” Granger asked, visibly worried.

“Don’t worry about me. We have a World Cup to plan, rather put the money where it’s needed,” Viktor replied. “But I appreciate your hospitality.”

“Well then… At least let me take you out for a lunch,” Granger, not waiting for a reply, started packing up her things.

“Madam, we have some things to discuss and there’s the meeting at two with the-“

“Oh, shut it, Draco, we haven’t seen each other for years,” the Minister shushed Malfoy without even looking at him. She put on her jacket and grabbed her purse. “They’ll wait until I come back. I am, after all, the Minister,” she said with a smile and walked out of the office. Viktor shook hands with Malfoy and Emil once more and followed her. Emil watched them leave with a wide smile. As far as he remembered, he’d never seen the Minister in such a good mood.

“You did that on purpose,” Malfoy’s sharp voice pierced his ears.

“Pardon?”

“You did that on purpose! You brought him here!” Malfoy, now fully enraged, was gazing at Emil with eyes full of hatred.

“Why, of course I did. I needed help and he’s the best I could get,” Emil said calmly. The angrier Malfoy got, the funnier he looked.

“I swear to Merlin’s beard, once this whole circus is over, I’m going to make sure you’re out of the Ministry as fast as you got in,” Malfoy hissed.

“That’s a little harsh, isn’t it?” Emil raised his eyebrows in amusement.

“What’s funny here?!” Malfoy was out of his wits with every Emil’s word.

“I mean, really. Firing a hard-working guy just because you can’t get laid?” Emil shook his head, now fully giggling. “Poor me, I guess.”

“How dare you-“

“Everybody knows, Draco,” Emil said, looking Malfoy calmly in the eye.

“That’s Mr. Malfoy for you,” Malfoy’s cold words resonated in the empty office. “And I dare you to speak to me like this ever again.”

“And I dare you to spill it out to her before it’s too late,” Emil grinned and patted Malfoy’s shoulder. “See ya!” he greeted the astonished blonde and finally left for his office.

 

…

 

The next morning Emil and Viktor walked upon an enormous green field. The sun was hardly up and the wind was still cold, throwing Emil’s hair in his eyes all the time. The only thing breaking up the never-ending green plain were two big tents from which voices could be heard. There were about twenty people frantically running around in chaos, not able to agree on what exactly they were doing.

“Well, here we are,” Emil announced tiredly. Neither of them slept much, as they spent most of the previous night talking and sharing their adventures. It’d been ages since they met for the last time, after all. Even though it was hardly 6 in the morning, they were both properly dressed in their suits and upon the first glance seemed as if they didn’t belong to the rest of the people mostly dressed in track suits.

“Very nice,” Viktor mumbled, though his voice didn’t show any sign of enthusiasm. To be fair, neither did Emil’s. “So you want the stadium here?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

“And the camping site will be…”

“All the way there,” Emil turned around and gestured towards the other green infinity behind them.

“Makes sense,” Viktor nodded. They stood in silence for a good minute.

“What the fuck are we doing here, Emil?” Viktor finally asked.

“I bet every single one of these people is asking the same thing.”

They walked into one of the big tents. As big as it looked from the outside, it was way bigger on the inside. There were rows of tables and benches where people, mostly young adults, sat and, despite the unearthly hour, worked. Some of them were having breakfast, some of them were checking their schedules for the day, some were doing both at the same time while also arguing with a group of friends about who should do what. Viktor, though keeping his stoic expression, was quite taken aback.

“Welcome to your office,” Emil said and showed Viktor a wobbly plastic table in the corner.

“Oh, you shouldn’t have,” Viktor mumbled and looked at the even wobblier chair, not daring to guess whether it would even withstand his weight.

“Sorry, tight budget,” Emil smiled apologetically. “Anyways… Um…” he looked around for a second, then he pointed into the crowd. “You see that ginger girl there at the table?”

“The one in the pink shirt?”

“No, the one with the black hat.”

“Oh, okay, I see her.”

They both stared into the crowd to find the chubby girl staring miserably on a bowl of porridge.

“That’s your right hand from now on. Her name is Klára.”

“Alright.”

“You’re gonna feel like slapping her a lot.”

“Noted.”

“But you should not slap her.”

“Understood.”

At that point the ginger girl in a black dress and with a black hat with a wide brim noticed the two men staring at her and decided that was enough terrible porridge for that morning. She stood up and walked towards them.

“She’s very capable and you can count on her with anything.”

“Uh-huh.”

“But she’ll also occasionally call you a bitch.”

“What should I do at such occasion?”

“I don’t know, call her a bitch back?

“Morning. Klára reporting for duty,” the girl who finally arrived to them said in a voice that just screamed “hi, I hate to be here so much!” and Emil noticed she looked more tired than anyone in the tent.

“Nice to meet you. Viktor,” Viktor stretched his arm towards her to shake hands. Klára, in her sleepiness, stared at the hand for a few seconds and then simply gave Viktor a low-five.

“Sup.”

“Uh… Is everything okay? You don’t look well,” Emil asked, worried.

“Just the usual,” Klára waved his concern off. “The Canadian squad kept blasting the whole Nickleback discography all night and the Korean girls were watching a stream of a BTS concert. Also, the British kids set one tent wall on fire while trying to toast some crumpets, but we got it fixed by the morning. Speaking of which, Svatopluk is running somewhere in here with scissors, but, honestly, he kept running with a knife yesterday, so I consider this the better option.”

Emil just sighed. He knew they were way behind the schedule, there was so much work to do, but at the same time he knew they were overworking everyone. And since they had a lot of part-time workers and student and not enough Ministry employees, some of the kids were simply forced to take up bigger tasks than they should have. And as much as capable Klára was, Emil felt very guilty for putting all the stress upon her shoulders, even though at the age of nineteen she was one of the oldest kids there.

“Listen, if you need a break for a day, just ask. I’m sure Viktor will need some time to look around here and figure out where to start,” he offered while Viktor frantically nodded.

“Nah, it’s Wednesday, my dudes,” Klára smiled, which, combined with the circles under her eyes, made her look more high than happy. “We’ve got a lot of shit to finish till Friday, so we better get into it asap.”

“Go get coffee first,” Emil insisted.”

“Can’t say no to that,” Klára turned around and started making her way to the big coffee urn available for everyone seeking a bit of energy throughout the hardship. “See you in a bit!”

Viktor looked at Emil with a raised eyebrow.

“What?”

“How old are all these people?” Viktor asked, but before he got any answer, he got swept to the side by the ever-so-quick Emil, who suddenly got his wand from god-knows-where. A loud crack filled up the room and Viktor found himself on the ground.

“I’ll be taking this,” Emil huffed out. In front of him, at the exact place where Viktor had stood just a second ago, there was Svatopluk, petrified in the middle of a step, the hand with scissors stretched in front of him. Emil took the scissors and placed them on Viktor’s table before helping his slightly confused friend back to his feet.

“Viktor, meet Svatopluk. This one you can slap any time.”

“Pleasure to meet you, sir,” Viktor bowed a little in front of the petrified boy and Emil noticed an amused smile on the former quidditch player’s face. With another tap of his wand he unfroze the boy and let him go. He’d yelled at Svatopluk so much in the past week that all the words lost their sense already. Sváťa would simply never learn.

“Let me guess. My left hand?” Viktor asked.

“Nope, he’s here pretty much as a punishment.”

“Does he bring much trouble here?”

“Yeah,” Emil admitted. “Quite a lot. But at least we have something to laugh at here,” he explained and finally smiled as well. “Well, I think you’ve met all the important people, so wait here for Klára and you can start working. Oh, wait,” Emil checked all his pockets before taking a little black box with a weird little antenna on top from one of them. “Just call me if you need anything.”

Viktor stared at the little black box as if he was contemplating whether it was safe to even jut touch it.

“What is that?” he asked.

“A walkie-talkie. Klára will explain to you how to operate it. Just, for goodness sake, don’t let it get into Sváťa's hands,” he begged Viktor.

“Good luck. I’ll see you at lunch,” Emil patted Viktor’s back and walked out of the tent.

Their deal was simple. Viktor would take care of the schedule, teams and the games themselves while Emil… Well, Emil simply took care of everything else. And so, while Viktor had a busy day full of planning and scheduling ahead, Emil was gathering all the Ministry workers to finally start working on the stadium that was supposed to grow in the middle of nothing during that day.

 


End file.
